


Murder

by AKO



Series: Detectives [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: "Black Widow", "Evil Eye", "Oldies", 6-legged rats, Alpha Centauri - Freeform, Bonding, Boots - Freeform, Dancing, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-17 02:45:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKO/pseuds/AKO
Summary: Detective Kirk and Detective Spock have caught another case, and Alpha Centauri needs to watch out for this duo!As usual, I have TOS in my head when I write these stories. But they also work for Abramsverse.





	1. Coincidence

Kirk was rubbing his bondmate’s feet.

 

They had barely returned from Vulcan where the bonding ceremony occurred, when Spock said he wanted to take Kirk dancing.  Kirk would never refuse such an opportunity!

 

Alas, the gorgeous stiletto boots that Spock had worn the last time they had gone out dancing were no more.  Spock went back to the South Side shop where he had purchased those boots, looking for replacements.

 

Oh, Lord!  Stick him on a dance floor, crank up the music, and Spock became a dancing fool.  He moved, he grooved, he rocked, he rolled, he set the dance floor on fire.

 

The skinsuit and stiletto knee high boots were like freshly-whipped cream on the strawberry shortcake, however.  The entire ensemble was breathtaking, and Kirk was thrilled down to his loafer-shod toes that all the gorgeousness that was Spock belonged to only him.

 

The last slow dance where Spock all but melted himself along the front of Kirk made the whole evening a wonderment.

 

Spock was limping when they finally walked into their apartment, and Kirk insisted on removing the boots himself.  He placed a pillow on his lap, and propped those elegant, tapered feet on said pillow.

 

So began the expert foot massage, which included deep tendon rubbing and twisting and enough toe-pulling to make even Vulcan knuckles crack.

 

“I thought the boots were fitted to your exact measurements?”

 

“They were.  The salesclerk even re-measured, to confirm the size on my store record was unchanged from the first purchase.”

 

“Shame the first pair was destroyed.  Maybe you can get a reimbursement, since it all happened in the line of duty.  How much did that first pair cost?”

 

“Two thousand credits, plus tax and import duty.”

 

“Holy dancing Jesus in a tutu and ballet slippers, Spock!  Two  _thousand_ credits? That’s outrageous!”

 

“Jim, the boots were incredible, everyone said so.  The complete effect of them was outrageous.”

 

“So you turn around, buy another pair for two thousand, and the damned things don’t fit right.”

 

“We did do a lot of dancing.”

 

“Spock…not two thousand credits’ worth!  I had a wonderful time, but JESUS!”  Throughout the conversation, Kirk continued to rub Spock’s elegant, nimble, and downright sexy feet.  He almost missed seeing Spock wince.  “What’s that?  What hurt?”

 

“I am fine.”

 

“Nope, no way.  I saw your face.”  Kirk bent to look closer, and found a lesion, surrounded by greenish inflammation.  “You’ve actually got a blister!  Those boots are going back for a full refund tomorrow!”  He bent a little further, and applied the old-fashioned “cure” to any small injury: he kissed it.

 

A tiny moan escaped Spock’s lips.  But it wasn’t an exasperated moan; it wasn’t even a moan of pain from having abraded flesh irritated by dubious first aid ministrations.  Nah.  This was more along the lines of “Oh, GAWD, that felt glorious, do it again!”

 

“Spock!  So, Vulcan toes are sensitive, like Vulcan fing…”  Kirk was interrupted mid-question when Spock growled, reached down, grabbed Kirk underneath the arms, and hauled him up the length of his body to be enveloped in a soul-sucking kiss.  “I take it you like your toes kissed,” Kirk muttered against Spock’s lips.

 

“I am…amenable to that, yes.”

 

“Your growl is very sexy.  You growl, I’ll kiss your toes, and let’s see where we end up.”

 

# # #

 

“Helluva convalescent leave.”  Kirk faced Spock across a table in the break room at work.

 

“Agreed.  I am not fond of being injured, and I am especially unenamored of you suffering any damage, but the outcome of this recuperation period has been momentous.”

 

Kirk tsked.  “Your ability to make such dry understatements it truly a gift, Spock.”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow.  Kirk thought that facial expression was so damned cute!  “Jim, I do not make a habit of dragging my work partners off to Vulcan to bond with me and then have them named as Clan.”

 

“I’m just that lovable.”

 

There was a slight quirk in the corner of Spock’s mouth.  “Indeed.”

 

One of the IT drones came into the break room escorting a very young man in a Starfleet Academy cadet uniform.  “Okay, Newlyweds, I have a ‘welcome back to work’ case for you.  You both are on light duty, anyway, so this is a paperwork drudge.”

 

Kirk kicked Spock’s ankle under the table as he laughed.  “Yeah, wedded bliss just wears a body out, so we were put on light duty.  What ya got for us, Dreekix, and why are you babysitting your little brother?”

 

“Witty banter!  Witty banter!  Gentlebeings, this is not my little brother.  This is your paperwork drudge assignment—well, what the Cadet supposedly discovered.  Brass wants you to find out if he really did create a new subroutine to access valid cross-referenced information, or is his algorithm completely whack and he needs to repeat last semester?”

 

“Snore!”  Kirk put his head down on the table and pretended to sleep.

 

“I would be interested in seeing your work, Cadet.  I did teach basic Computer Sciences and also Advanced Programming at the Academy.”

 

The young man seemed to shrink into himself.  He had been told his work would be looked over by a couple of detectives here on Alpha Centauri.  He was mortified to see that one of detectives was the legendary Professor Spock.

 

The IT drone smiled and excused herself from the group.  “I’ll just leave you to your execution, I mean, examination.”

 

Kirk turned on the charm.  “Have a seat, Cadet.  Coffee, tea, soft drink?”

 

The poor kid began to shake as he sat down gingerly.  “Wodka, please.”

 

The kid’s name was Pavel Chekov, and he was older than the twelve Standard years of age that he appeared.  But not much.  Almost savant-like in his knowledge and application of computers, he was one of the few who had been able to put Spock through his paces in recent years.  The new subroutine enabled a search which had never been used before and the application of such was brilliant in its simplicity.  Spock wondered why nobody had ever thought of it.

 

“Class assignment vas to take files of cases in existing database and find new vay to catalog data contained vithin.  Also to allow new search parameters.”

 

“Yes, two major concerns of law enforcement everywhere in the Federation are cold cases, and possible serial offenders.  I proposed the project to the Computer Sciences staff at the Academy.”

 

Chekov seemed to crouch even lower in his chair.  “I do not presume to intrude on your expertise, Professor.”

 

“You have not, Cadet.  Indeed, that was the assigned task, and I am most curious as to how you approached the exercise.”

 

“Vun of the search parameters never before utilized in conjunction vith the usual search fields is ‘reporting party.’  I figured, ‘Vhy not?’  If dere is vun person making many call of major incident, perhaps dere is a connection?”  The youthful eagerness animated Chekov’s features as he warmed up to the topic.  “Of course, you vill have de crazies who call in eweryting, so dere vill be a lot of clutter in the search results.  But maybe, just maybe, vun or two hits can yield paydirt?”

 

Chekov was drinking hot tea from a cut crystal glass in an engraved silver holder.  Very Eastern European.  He even held a sugar cube between his front teeth as he drank, to sweeten the beverage.  “Need samowar to brew tea correctly the Russian vay, replicator tea does not have the same flawors.  But if I cannot have wodka, dis vill do.  Tenk you, Keptin, Professor, for dis refreshment.”

 

“Just Jim and Spock here, Pavel.”

 

“No, sair, I must protest.  I show my respect, yes?”

 

Kirk smiled, “If you insist.”

 

“What was the search you ran that gave you an indication the new subroutine was valid, Cadet?”

 

Chekov finished his tea as he tapped his datapadd.  “You see here, Professor.  First, I qualified the search with cases ten Standard years of age or greater, tinking to target cold cases,  _da_?  Den I looked for common reporting party.”  A few more taps, and he turned the padd so Spock could see.  “De wery first hit is a voman named Zonni Bakerston.  I look at the cases associated vith her, and dey are all murders!”

 

Kirk got out his personal comm unit and contacted Records.  “This is Detective Kirk.  I need the case files for the following codes…” and he slid the datapadd to his side of the table to read off the list that Chekov’s program had generated.

 

Neither Spock nor Kirk believed in coincidences.

 


	2. Boots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let your imagination go wherever the story may take you!

Back in the office that Kirk and Spock shared, every flat surface had been covered with boxes and stacks of disks.  “Oh, I see Records took this as an opportunity to empty the basement,” Kirk wisecracked.

 

Chekov sneezed.

 

“Stock up on antihistamines, Cadet.  Plowing through cold cases always means irritated sinuses.”  Spock raised an eyebrow as he watched a spider run across the floor.  “I sincerely hope that spiders are the only wildlife imported from storage.”

 

“Vhat do you mean, Professor?”  Yes, that was a look of panic on the young man’s face.

 

“Alpha Centauri hosts a very distasteful, six-legged rat that often nests in the basement here.”

 

Kirk laughed.  “You’ve got the kid terrified now, Spock.”  He put a hand on Chekov’s shoulder, and the cadet jumped nearly three feet.  “Easy, easy.  Look for a disk marked ‘Index.’  Once we get that going, we can try to find some sort of order to this mess.”

 

Spock had installed Chekov’s new search engine on the mainframe, and was at his desk studying the results.

 

“Cadet, a brief clarification: ‘murder’ is not synonymous with ‘suspicious death,’ or ‘unexplained death.’  Nevertheless, your new algorithm appears to be completely validated in uncovering associations previously unknown.’

 

Chekov paused from his disk-hunting, rat-fearing, sinus-clogging efforts and blushed furiously.  “I beg your forgiweness, Professor.”

 

“I lay the blame completely on holoscreen entertainment programming, Cadet.  Continue to search for that index disk.  My cursory examination of the database leads me to conclude this Zonni Bakerston is absolutely a person of interest.”

 

Kirk sneezed rapidly, twice, three times, four times…and kept sneezing.  Spock raised one eyebrow and handed him a box of wipes.  “Once you have located the index disk, Cadet, please sort this material in a coherent, chronological system.  I must attend to my bondmate, his brains are leaking out of his nose.”

 

After a shower and the application of a Neti pot, Kirk was feeling better.  He and Spock were enjoying a meal together at home.  “When we’re done here, I want to take the boots back.  For two thousand goddamned credits, you should be getting no blisters.”

 

“I do agree but perhaps we can imagine blisters for later romantic play.”

 

That remark got a wink.

 

Kirk wore his ubiquitous blue jeans and white T-shirt, and Spock had on his long-sleeved, buttoned black shirt and well-fitted black slacks.  They both looked delicious.  But inside the South Side store, Kirk felt as out-of-place as they would have been wearing cartoon footie jammies.

 

The outside sign said, “Emporium of Exotic.”  And indeed it was.

 

Among other things.

 

Spock walked in, so cool and collected, like he shopped there on a weekly basis.  And damn, that thought electrified every nerve in Kirk’s body on the off-chance that Spock actually was a frequent customer!  Kirk stumbled after him as he made his way to the back, where the completely libido-boggling shoe section was located.

 

A sales clerk appeared immediately, and to Kirk’s relief, he appeared normal.  Whatever that meant.  The guy welcomed Spock effusively.  Okay, Kirk knew that Spock had dropped at  _least_  four thousand credits at this store, so it made complete sense that the clerk would remember Spock.  Still, there were licks of jealousy taunting him.

 

“Mister Spock!  You grace my establishment.”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow, and handed the offending boots to the man.  “These are defective.”

 

“Horrors!  I beg your complete pardon!”

 

“Despite being fitted to my personal measurements, I developed a …blister.”

 

Kirk’s jaw dropped, as tears welled in the sales clerk’s eyes.  “Unforgiveable!  I give you a full refund, of course.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Kirk and Spock “browsed” while the clerk took the offending boots to the back of the store.  Kirk said,  _sotto voce_ , “So, you’re a regular customer here, I take it?”

 

“As the occasion warrants it.”  He handed a boot to Kirk.  “The color turquoise suits you.”

 

Kirk lost all the spit in his mouth.  “Um.”

 

“If the exact pedal measurements are done correctly, these will not hurt your feet.”

 

“Um,” Kirk said again, still trying to swallow.

 

The clerk reappeared, blushing and flustered, with much hand-waving.  “I beg forgiveness!  There was a transposition error in your measurements, that is why you were injured.  A thousand pardons, please!”

 

Spock merely raised an eyebrow, and handed the turquoise boot to the clerk.  “This one.  For my bondmate, and ensure his measurements are done correctly.”

 

“Absolutely.  Kind sir, please be seated here, and remove all footwear.  I shall bring in the digital pedal micrometer.”

 

Kirk raised an eyebrow.

 

By the time they left the store, Kirk was speechless, embarrassed, and extremely aroused.  And he looked at Spock with entirely new eyes.  Apparently his bondmate was wealthy, although the sixteen thousand credits in the store till had to have lightened his wallet a bit.

 

The new purchases would be delivered to their home.  There were the turquoise boots for their next dance date.  Spock had replaced the offending black boots with red stiletto boots that the clerk assured would contrast righteously with his black leather coat.

 

And there was another pair of shoes that both frightened and excited Kirk.

 

Because Spock had said they were to be worn by his bondmate only in the bedroom.

 

With nothing else.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate boots, of course, to all readers!


	3. Rats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Chekov. He's got some brilliant ideas, but he can't handle the Alpha Centauri rats. Spock and Kirk are after the two-legged varieties.

Kirk was drinking coffee from a go-cup and teasing Spock as the two of them walked into their office.  Aside from the fact there were boxes strewn everywhere and a haze of dust suspended in the air, the strangest site to greet them was Chekov, crouched on Spock’s desk.  He had one boot in hand, prepared to throw.  His sock-footed appearance testified that the other boot had already been launched.

 

“There it is!  There it is, look out!”  He threw the boot between two stacks of boxes, and it clattered against the wall.

 

Rustling noises echoed from the corner.

 

“Cadet, why are you on my desk?”

 

“A rat popped out of one of de boxes!”

 

“And…?”

 

Chekov shuddered from head to foot.  “I hate rats!”

 

Spock shook his head, leaned into the corner and reached down.  He stood up with the culprit grasped at the neck with two fingers.  The six tiny feet scrabbled in midair, and Chekov scooted to the edge of the desk furthest from Spock.

 

“Kill it!”

 

Spock left the room and returned almost immediately empty-handed, rubbing sanitizer gel through his fingers.

 

“Did you toss it down the recycle chute?”

 

“Negative.  I simply transported it to Holding.”

 

Kirk cracked up, “Perfect.  I’m sure it will feel right at home with the other vermin incarcerated there.”  He helped Chekov down from the desk.  “Pavel, were you here all night?”

 

“Yes!  After you left, I opened one of de boxes to see vhat was inside, and the rat jumped out!  I got on top of de desk to get avay from it, and it vouldn’t let me get to the door!”

 

“Pavel.”  Kirk patted him on the shoulder.  “Go home, Pavel.  Get some rest, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

He didn’t even collect his boots.  He muttered in Russian, and the only word Kirk could translate was “wodka.”

 

“So,” Kirk started.  “Do you think we have more rats in the rest of these boxes?”

 

“Probably.  I shall make every effort to eradicate them before the cadet returns.”

 

Spock walked over to the closed office door, and engaged the locking mechanism.  Then he very gently gathered Kirk into his arms and lowered his face to begin a kiss.  It was as ethereal as a soap bubble, lighter than a butterfly wing, but within the span of several heartbeats, the kiss deepened until their very souls entwined.  Finally, finally, Spock pulled away a few millimeters, his breath puffing against Kirk’s kiss-swollen lips.  “Thank you for this morning.”

 

Kirk’s brain scooped up the few remaining cells still alive after that kiss, enough for him to reply, “Well, thank  _you_  for last night!”

 

“Which time?” Spock smiled.

 

That did it.   Kirk broke free from the embrace and started cracking up.  “You are just too much!”  He grabbed Spock in a crushing hug and said, “You are brilliant, gorgeous, sexy, and may all the gods have mercy on us, Spock you are truly so much fun!”

 

Yes, that was a smirk.  “Do not tell anyone.  I have a reputation to maintain.”

 

The door chime sounded.  When the door did not immediately open, knuckles rapped against the surface.  Kirk took two steps towards the door, uncoded it, and came face to face with a technician from Records.

 

“Why is this door locked during Alpha shift, Sir?”

 

“We don’t want to let the rats out.”

 

The man sighed.  “We do have regular treatments by a qualified extermination contractor.”

 

“Did you need something, or are you here to update us on the vermin population?”  Spock had both hands behind his back, with one eyebrow raised.

 

The tech shook his head.  “I’m looking for that kid, Chekov.  When he coordinated with us for your very own rat collection, he put a flag on any new cases that fit his search parameters.”

 

Kirk moved closer.  “I sent Pavel home.  He was worn out from keeping the rats company in here all night.  What have you got on the flag?”

 

“That reporting party?  Zonni Bakerston?  She’s just called in a new one.”

 

Spock punched his datapadd a few times, then nodded at Kirk.  Kirk turned back to the tech.  “We’re on it.”

 

“Code me to your office door, Detective, and I’ll get rid of your rats.”

 

“Sure.  Just don’t tell us what you do with them.”  Kirk pointed over his shoulder to Spock.  “He’s a pacifist, you know.”

 

The tech laughed.  “Yeah, I heard about the latest transporter buzz to Holding.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghirardelli makes this incredible product called "ground chocolate." It comes in canisters, and you can stir a spoonful (or two...or three...or...) into a mug of steaming hot milk...
> 
> Yes, that's your reward, Readers!


	4. Oaf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we got a dead body. How did it get dead? How did this mysterious, TINY old lady help it get dead?

Kirk and Spock stood on the doorstep to a nondescript condo in MidCity.  Spock was in what Kirk called “dressy casual,” black, button-down long sleeved shirt, slim-fit black pants, that looked tailored to his exact body measurements.

 

It was enough to make a person drool.

 

Kirk was in his ubiquitous jeans, but wearing a shirt and tie and knitted vest.  He just had a different interpretation of “dressy casual.”

 

And Spock liked it fine.

 

A very tiny, elderly lady answered the door.  She was dressed in a plain black pantsuit that probably cost more than Kirk and Spock’s monthly salary combined.  Her dark eyes were magnified behind old-fashioned glasses with wire frames.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Ms Zonni Bakerston?”

 

“I am.  And you are?”

 

They both showed their badges and ID.  “Detective Kirk and Detective Spock, Starfleet Criminal Investigation Division.  May we come in?”

 

“Certainly.”  She opened the door wider, and gracefully drew her arm in an arc, as a welcoming gesture.  “Please, be seated.  I was just having tea, may I offer you some refreshment?”

 

Kirk looked at Spock, Spock looked at Kirk.  Kirk did a small shrug.  “Thank you, that would be delightful.”

 

The woman seated herself at the edge of a large, upholstered chair.  She grasped a small silver bell on the nearby table, and tinkled it gently.

 

A uniformed maid appeared.  “Yes, Madam?”

 

“Tea, for me and my two guests, please.”

 

 

 

The maid immediately wheeled in a cart containing a large, shiny brass samovar, decorated with intricate enamelwork.  She decanted scalding hot tea into three glasses, each in a filigreed silver holder similar to the one Chekov had used.  She then offered an enameled tray, containing serving containers of cream, sugar, and lemon wedges.

 

The maid left the room, and the three settled back into their seats to enjoy the first sips of tea.

 

“This is the first time I’ve had tea from a samovar.  It really is better prepared that way!”

 

“Ach, you’ve probably had that nasty replicator tea.  That is not tea, that is horse urine.”

 

Kirk chuckled a little bit.  Spock raised an eyebrow.

 

“You gentlemen are here about the dead body on my back doorstep.”

 

Spock set his glass of tea on the low table in front of him, and pulled out his datapadd.  ‘You are the reporting party, called in at 0137, two days ago.”

 

“Yes, I told the officers that night I found him there, dead.”

 

“Did you know the person?”

 

She set her tea glass down, and looked away.  ‘Unfortunately, yes.”

 

“Go on.”

 

“I am a widow.  I have no children, however, God has blessed me with many, many nieces and nephews, many great-nieces and great-nephews.  I care for them all as if they were my own children, to whom I had given birth.  I see them every holiday, I am generous with gifts for birthdays, Christmas, graduations, weddings, every special occasion.”

 

Kirk and Spock both nodded, encouraging her to continue.

 

"My niece, she is the daughter of my brother’s child, so she is my great-niece, her name is Delia.  She was …involved…in a relationship with a very rude, coarse individual.  He was abusive.  As long as she remained with him, I had nothing to do with her.  All the children know I do not condone that sort of behavior.

 

“Delia finally came to her senses, and wanted to leave the oaf.  That’s what I called him, ‘The Oaf.’  She contacted me, and I told her she could stay here, in my home, as a respite, until she could get herself established on her own.  ‘The Oaf’ tried to contact her, many times, looking for reconciliation.

 

"I told him to his face, he had to leave.  I was going to get an Order of Protection against him, and Delia would get one, too.”

 

She picked up her glass, and drank again.  She kept drinking, until the glass was empty.  “More tea?” she offered.

 

“Two nights ago…”Kirk restarted the conversation.

 

‘Yes,” she sighed.  “He showed up here, knocking on the doors, tapping on the windows.  I called the Emergency Dispatcher several times.  “A unit is en route, Ma’am,” I was told.  “The noises stopped.  I had hoped he finally got tired, and went home.”

 

“What time did he first approach your home that night?”

 

“Eight-thirty, nine o’clock.  Your dispatcher should have a record of all my calls.”

 

“Yes, ma’am, just confirming.”

 

“He stopped at what time?”

 

She shook her head.  ‘I don’t know.  I was tired of the nonsense, I finally went to bed.  It was after ten PM.”

 

“Why were you awake at 0137 to report the body?”

 

“I am an old lady.  I do not eat much, I pick-pick-pick.  Sometimes I wake up, and I am hungry.  I came to the kitchen to find something to eat.  I noticed the security light was on, it overlooks the back door.  When I looked out the window, I saw ‘The Oaf,’ so I called it in.”

 

Straightforward.  The great-niece, Delia Minders, was interview, and corroborated the entire story.  She had been in a relationship with ‘The Oaf,’ who was really named Darrell Young, for over a year.  She made up her mind to leave him,  and moved in with her aunt.  Darrell didn’t like that at all, and had been nagging/pleading/cajoling her to return.  He’d stop drinking, he’d get a job, he’d change, if she’d only come home.

 

She had gone to bed when her aunt had, and didn’t know anything had happened until a police officer knocked on her bedroom door at 2:30 AM, explaining that there was a dead body on the back step.

 

The two detectives thanked the woman for her time, and also for the delicious tea, and said they’d be in touch.  Now it was time to visit the morgue.

 

# # #

 

“I shoulda known the Mystery Guy was one of your customers.”

 

“Hey, Bones, is it still dead around here?”

 

McCoy was gowned, shielded, gloved, and elbow-deep inside the abdominal cavity of ‘The Oaf.’  “Yeah, my comedy routines just kill ‘em.  What do you want to know about Darrell Young?”

 

“For starters, how did he die?”

 

McCoy extricated himself from the guts, and stripped off his gloves.  He walked around the table, and leaned up against a cabinet, looking both Kirk and Spock up and down.  “No costume party today?  You guys are no fun.”

 

“Straightforward investigative work on this one, so far.  If you are in the mood for a party, Bones, come over to my new place on Saturday.  I’m having an Open House.”

 

“I might do just that.  Anything is more exciting than this place.  May I bring a date?”

 

“By all means, as long as he or she is alive.  None of your customers, okay?  I don’t want my new neighbors complaining about me so soon.”

 

“Email me time and directions, Jimmy-boy, and I’ll be there.  Now, what would you like to know about Mister Young?”

 

“How did he end up dead?”

 

“He fell off the roof.”

 

“WHAT????”

 

“He honestly looks like he took a header off a two story building, and struck the pavement with the top of his head.”

 

“That doesn’t add up.”

 

“Hey, I just tell you what the body tells me.  No defensive injuries, no signs of being restrained in any way, like he just stood on the roof parapet and leaned over too far.”

 

“Drugs, alcohol?”

 

“Bombed outta his gourd.  BAC .29.  He was so drunk, if he intentionally aimed for the ground, he honestly could have missed it.”

 

“Doctor McCoy.”

 

“Yes, Spock?”

 

“The deceased was a stalker, harassing the partner from a newly-terminated relationship.  He had been seen knocking on the doors of a residence, tapping on the windows.  There is no indication he climbed up to the roof at any time.”

 

“What can I say, Spock?  His head is smashed like an eggshell, brains turned to goo.”

 

“Please re-examine for any subtle discrepancies with your proposed manner of death.”

 

“Hmmm.  So it’s really that hinky.”

 

“Oh, yes,” Kirk sighed.  “It’s probably gonna get a whole lot hinkier, too.”

 

“Okay, then, back to work.  If you don’t have any more new customers for me between now and then, I’ll see you at the party!  New place, huh?  I suppose that means you’ll want a present, too.”

 

“Nah, just a kind word, a soft smile, and your musical laugh will be presence enough!”

 

McCoy cracked up as he threw an autopsy glove at Kirk.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you didn't know that Kellogg's Frosted Flakes now come in CHOCOLATE flavor! Grab a bowl, it's breakfast time!


	5. Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Kirk have a housewarming party! What could possibly go wrong? Uh-oh...

C’mon, why can’t I wear my new boots to our Housewarming Party?”

  

“Jim…”

 

“Aw…I even bought a new pair of jeans to wear with the boots!”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “When did you go shopping?”

 

“Bought ‘em online.”

 

Both eyebrows lowered to a scowl.  “You cannot achieve proper fit by buying online.”

 

 

“I thought they fit just fine.  I’ll show you!”

 

 

Kirk left the room, and soon returned, wearing the new boots and the jeans purchased online.

 

 

In his own home, Spock was permitted to be boggled.  And boggled he was.  “Ahem.  For an online purchase, the fit is…remarkable.”

 

“They go nicely with the boots, too.”

 

“Affirmative...”

 

“So I’ll wear this to the party.”

 

“No.”

 

“Aw, Spock!”

 

“James, the clothes must fit the occasion.  That is why I have such a … complete collection.  The boots were specifically purchased to go out dancing.  And the jeans accompany the boots to perfection.  We shall go dancing, soon.  After all, I need to ‘break in’ my new red boots, as well.”

 

“If you insist.”

 

“I am afraid I do.”

 

# # #

 

Party time, and the guests began arriving.  All were completely taken aback by the size and the elegance of the apartment.

 

“Jimmy-boy,” announced McCoy.  “ _You_  live in this palace?  What bank did you rob?”

 

“Snazzy, isn’t it?”

 

“Boy, I remember you practically living in a cardboard box before you got accepted to Starfleet Academy!”

 

“Much bigger than a cardboard box, that’s for sure!  Four bedrooms, and a guest suite!”

 

“C’mon, Jim, where’d you get this kind of money?  I know what detectives make!”

 

“Aha!  Perfect segue!  Everybody, please gather around!”  Kirk tapped on his glass with a fork, and the  _tink tink tink_  caught the attention of the guests.  Kirk stepped next to Spock, and raised his glass in the air.  “An announcement: You all may not know, but Detective Spock and I traveled to Vulcan before we were released from convalescent leave, and we are now bonded!”

 

“Congratulations!”

 

“Hear!  Hear!”

 

“To the happy couple!”

 

“It’s about  _time_!” growled McCoy.  “Do you have any idea how long M’Benga and I have been trying to get you two together where you belong?”

 

M’Benga called out from the other side of the room.  “It’s true.  The whole hospital knew you two should be married.”

 

“That’s right,” added Christine Chapel, McCoy’s date.

 

“Huh.  I thought they  _were_  married,” muttered Doctor Mark Piper.

 

“Anyway.  That explains my sumptuous pad.  I now have a wealthy spouse.”

 

“Not wealthy.  No.  Merely comfortable.”

 

Snorts and smothered giggles traveled around the room.

 

Cadet Chekov was a late arrival to the party.  He apologized to the hosts, and started apologizing to each guest until he encountered Hikaru Sulu.

 

They both yelled in happy surprise and hugged and danced.

 

Kirk approached them.  “I take it you two know each other?”

 

“Absolutely, Keptin!  De Sulu family and de Chekov family both had wacation property  on the Kamchatka peninsula.  Ve spent many summers together svimming and fishing and rock climbing together!”

 

“Ahhh, you mean the big kids swam, fished, and rock climbed, and you tagged along, crying because we didn’t invite you with us!”

 

This remark generated much shoulder punching and laughter.

 

“I can understand Chekov spending summers in all that snow, but you, Sulu?”

 

“Keptin!”  Chekov’s indignant voice carried across the room.  “Summers in Kamchatka are wery beautiful!  Up by the Arctic Circle, dat is de Land of the Midnight Sun!  For children, it is Paradise, daylight around the clock!  De gardens grow magnificent wegetables, the salmon practically jump into your arms, and den de hot springs are vonderful for soaking!”

 

“He’s right, Sir.  There is no better place to spend summer vacation, especially for kids, than Kamchatka.  The Russians and the Japanese have been haggling over ownership for thousands of years, because it is such a wonderful place.”

 

Chekov hugged Sulu again.  “Ve share!”

 

“Say, Chekov, Spock and I had a chance to drink tea brewed in a genuine samovar, and I have to admit, it was excellent!”

 

“Keptin!  How fortunate!  Vhat vas the occasion?”

 

“That Person of Interest your software generated, turns out she had another call to Dispatch just the other day.  We went to see her, ask some questions.  She’s this little, tiny, old lady, lives like royalty, and had her maid bring in the tea samovar while we talked.  It was a work of art, too, covered in enameled flowers.”

 

Chekov stopped and stared.  “Vhat vas dis lady’s name, again, Sair?”

 

“Zonni Bakerston.”

 

“And she liwed vhere?”

 

“A condo in MidCity, with her niece, Delia-something.”

 

Chekov turned white.  “Oh, no.”

 

“You  _know_  this woman, Chekov?”

 

He sat down abruptly on a stool.  “I vill have to make a call, Sair, but I dink she might be my  _Tetka_  Alekzondra.”

 

“ _Tetka_  Alekzondra?”  burst out Sulu.  “ _durnoy glaz_!”  With the index finger of his right hand, he pulled down the lower lid of his right eye, and made a spitting motion to the carpet.  With his left hand he made a fist, extending his index finger and pinky finger forward, and then thrust his fist away from his body.

 

Chekov repeated “ _durnoy glaz_!” and copied the same motions.

 

“I will thank you gentlemen to not expectorate on my carpeting,” said Spock, in a droll voice.

 

“No, no, Professor, ve vere not really spitting.  It is a way to counteract the curse of the Evil Eye.”

 

Spock raised one eyebrow.  All other conversation in the room stopped, and people faced Chekov.

 

“Explain,” Spock demanded, in his professional interrogator voice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll continue the breakfast theme, and do Chocolate Special K cereal this time!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Salmon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's find out about this mysterious Tetka Alekzondra!

Kirk stepped next to Spock.  “Just one little minute, Spock.  Before we go any further with this little family saga, how about we let Pavel make his comm call, to find out if his  _Tetka_  Alekzondra is really this Zonni Bakerston.”

 

“You are right, Jim.  Cadet, if you please?”  Spock pointed the way to the house comm unit in the living room.  Chekov excused himself and the entire place turned to watch, because this was a rather captivating story.

 

Kirk tried to give Chekov a modicum of privacy.  “So, Hikaru, tell us more about Kamchatka.  Why is it such a big secret?”

 

“It’s not, really, Captain.  But tourism depends on advertising, and the Kamchatka government has never completely invested in that.   People think of Kamchatka vodka, but that’s not what the place is about.  It has a huge fishing industry, and it used to be noted for trapping, especially brown bears.  Now it’s a center for whale research.  As I said earlier, it’s a Paradise for kids in the summertime!”

 

“It sure sounds like it!  Perhaps you should hire yourself out to their tourism industry!”

 

A white-faced Chekov rejoined the group.  “Zonni Bakerston is my  _Tetka_  Alekzondra.”

 

At that point, Doctor M’Benga and his date came forward.  She touched Kirk’s arm.  “Detective, I have so enjoyed your home, and I celebrate the occasion of your bonding, many congratulations.  However, if this is a potential or an actual investigation, I really must recuse myself from here.”

 

Kirk embraced her gently.  “Your Honor, it was our extreme pleasure to see you, especially in the company of the esteemed Doctor M’Benga.”

 

“Nyota, please.”  She bussed his cheek.  “Geoff and I have known each other for ages, it’s about time he asked me out socially.  I hope we see each other again soon, as long as it’s not in a courtroom!”

 

Spock nodded his head at the couple.

 

A buzzing sounded in several places across the room.  M’Benga pulled out his pocket comm unit.  “It looks like I have to leave.  We’ve got a smashup at the Spaceport.”

 

Other hands raised their comm units, indicating they had also got the summons.

 

“I’ll probably be next,” grumbled  McCoy.  Sure enough, his comm unit buzzed, and he canceled the noise.

 

“That’s a party buster, if I ever heard one!”  Kirk groused.

 

Wraps were collected, goodbyes were said, and then Spock, Kirk, Chekov, and Sulu settled on the couches.  Spock set a recording unit on the coffee table.  He turned it on, named all parties, and then asked for everyone’s consent to document the conversation.

 

Both Sulu and Chekov talked conversationally about  _Tetka_  Alekzondra.  She would occasionally join the family in Kamchatka, when they would convene a family reunion during the summer.  She was never accompanied by a husband, and she kept to herself but always had the family and the events completely under observation.  She could identify each family member and rattle off her relationship with that person.  All of the small children held her in both awe and terror.

 

People were told, “Never anger  _Tetka_  Alekzondra.  She has the Evil Eye.”

 

Almost all the activities of the Evil Eye were alleged, however, except for the Summer of the Salmon.

 

“Usually, we’d go fishing every summer.  And we’d always catch enough to feed everyone.  It didn’t take long, the fish were eager to be caught.  But that one summer…nobody could catch a fish.”

 

“Ve ate a lot of macaroni and cheese.”

 

Sulu laughed.  “Sure seems like it!  No barbecued salmon!  People were heartbroken!”

 

“Vun day, all de kids vere out fishing.  Ve figured someone had to catch someting!  After a couple of hours,  _Tetka_  Alekzondra came out to the bay.  Ewerybody vas shocked, she newer vent outside!  She valked out on de dock, and vaved her hands ower the vater and closed her eyes…”

 

“She hummed.”

 

“ _Da_ , she hummed.  Den she opened her eyes, looked at all de kids, and said, ‘Catch de fishes now.’”

 

“As soon as she left, the fish all but leaped into our arms.  We’d no sooner unhook a fish from the line, drop it back in the water, then BAM, there’d be another fish!”

 

“Ve caught so many fish, ve ate salmon ewery single meal until ve left Kamchatka.  Salmon for breakfast, salmon for lunch, salmon for supper, salmon casserole, salmon soup, salmon pie, poached salmon, baked salmon, grilled salmon…”

 

“He’s not kidding, Sirs.  We took salmon home from that summer, and ate it for years afterwards.  Salmon in stasis, frozen salmon, canned salmon, salmon jerky…”

 

“Dat stuff is awful!”

 

“It’s only recently I’ve been able to eat salmon again and enjoy it!”

 

“Gentlemen, that’s a nice family story, but we’re looking for something a little more …factual.  Let’s try this: Chekov, why didn’t you recognize your aunt’s last name?”

 

“Keptin,  _Tetka_  Alekzondra has been married many, many times.”

 

“How many?”

 

He looked up to the ceiling to collect his thoughts.  “At least eight, no, nine, counting the last name I didn’t recognize.”

 

“That is quite a few.  How did the marriages end?”

 

“Oh, they all died.  Ewery single one.”

 

Kirk looked at Spock.  “Well, she did introduce herself as a widow…”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“This is going to take a bit more research.”

 

Chekov and Sulu looked at each other, made the eye motion again, and dry-spit to the ground, while making the horn sign with their left hands.

 

Spock left the room, and soon returned.  He gave each man a small round stone.  “To save you having to do the entire ‘Evil Eye’ routine, I offer you each an ancient Vulcan rune stone, guaranteed to give protection against all curses.”  They both quietly slipped the stones in their pockets.

 

“Dese really verk, Professor?”

 

Spock removed one from his own pocket.  “I carry one with me always.”

 

Soon, they said their farewells, and the men were gone.

 

“Spock what in the Hell did you give those two?”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “Yesterday, when we were investigating the unfortunate demise of that individual in the warehouse district, I noticed the technicians were running low on markers.”

 

“Ugh.  Yes, there was quite a bit of brain splatter everywhere.”

 

“I picked up a few stones to use for temporary markers, in the event they ran out.  I simply placed them in my pocket and forgot about them.”

 

“No such thing as ancient Vulcan rune stones?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“I didn’t think so.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the best chocolate breakfast cereals is one of the oldest: Everybody bring a bowl and get some Cocoa Krispies! (I like the chocolate milk left in the bottom of the bowl!)


	7. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's advance warning: this chapter may kill you. Please sign release forms before reading!

Spock was searching Vital Records, while Kirk was organizing the (ratless) file boxes.  They had given Chekov a few days off.  He was rather…”excitable” as Spock put it, and not really helpful in an investigative mode.  Kirk gave him explicit orders to stay the Hell away from  _Tetka_  Alekzondra.  Spock explained the rune stones were ineffective for direct contact.

 

“What have you got, Spock?”

 

“A veritable black widow, Jim.   _Tetka_  Alekzondra specializes in marrying extremely elderly gentlemen who apparently suffer ill health.  No immediate indications that she helps them along their path to Eternity, but I cannot discount it at this time.  She began her ‘career’ at the tender age of 22 Standard years.  Her bridegroom was 108.  From media accounts it was an arranged marriage, and the husband was instrumental in bringing the Faberge brand and trademark back to traditional Russia.  He was quite a businessman.”

 

“Wealthy, I take it?”

 

“Tremendously so.  They spent fifteen years in wedded matrimony, before he departed this mortal coil.  Absolutely no question it was natural causes, and even with a prenuptial agreement, Alekzondra was left with more than a few rubles to her name.”

 

“That probably set the pattern.”

 

“No doubt.”

 

“You have the list of spouses?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Let’s go annoy the Hell outta McCoy then.”

 

“A delightful idea.”

 

# # #

 

“Hey, Bones, how ya doing?”

 

“Unlike some people, I actually work!”  McCoy extricated his hands from the body cavity of his latest “customer” as he answered Kirk.

 

Kirk shrugged to Spock.  “We work!”

 

“Can’t tell from my side.  You don’t love me any more, you haven’t sent me presents in days!”

 

“You didn’t get the brain-splattered guy from the warehouse district?”

 

McCoy stripped off his gloves and threw them in the recycler.  “That was yours?  Yohanniset picked that one up….okay, he scraped that one up.  Messy, messy, messy!”

 

“We’ve got a relatively clean job for you.”

 

McCoy nodded to his assistant to finish, then removed his protective clothing.  “I’m ready to sit down and shake hands with a cup of coffee.  What have you got?”

 

The three sat around a table, McCoy and Kirk with coffee, and Spock with his tea.  Spock tapped his datapadd and turned it around to show a list to McCoy.  “Did you follow any of the story from Cadet Chekov at our apartment?”

 

“Everybody followed every single word!  Believe me, there has been nothing on screen lately worth watching, it was better entertainment than anything the media has had to offer!”

 

“I was afraid of that,” muttered Kirk.

 

“We are doing a preliminary investigation of the woman the Cadet referred to as ‘ _Tetka_  Alekzondra.’  Our initial queries reveal her to be a possible black widow.”

 

McCoy’s eyebrows shot up.  “Oh, now you have me intrigued!”

 

“We thought so.”  Kirk drank his coffee and smiled over the cup.  “We need to know how her spouses died.  That’s your specialty, right?”

 

McCoy pulled the datapadd in front of him.  “Yeah, that’s what they pay me for.  You’ve got enough preliminary information here.  I’ll do some digging and get back to you.  Ye gods, the woman has been married  _twenty times_?”

 

“Affirmative.”  This was said with the obligatory raised eyebrow from Spock.  “The Cadet estimated only nine marriages, but I discovered a few more.  Interestingly enough, every single marriage terminated with the demise of the spouse.”

 

“That’s not a black widow, Gentlemen.  That’s a damned firing squad!”

 

Kirk didn’t grin then.  He broke into a full-fledged smile.  “I kinda thought that would pique your interest!”

 

# # #

 

“ _Now_  can we go out dancing?”

 

“Yes, James, you may wear your boots and your jeans, and we shall dance the night away.”

 

“Hot damn!”

 

It wasn’t too long before Kirk showed up in the living room, dressed to kill.  He had on the famed turquoise boots, the incredibly fitting copper jeans, and this was all topped with a form-fitting black silk T-shirt that shimmered with a coppery light.  He was hot, he was ready, he was raring…he stopped dead in his tracks.

 

He stopped breathing.

 

Yes, his heart stopped beating, too.

 

Okay, that explains everything.  He’s dead.  This is some sort of after-death vision.  Maybe the white light comes next.  But oh, who cares about a white light when you can just focus on this  _vision_!  DAMN!

 

Spock walked into the living room, from the bedroom which had been designated as his closet.  He wore the black skinsuit.  Actually, he had several of the garments, they were so versatile in many ways.  On his feet were the red boots.

 

All hail the red stiletto boots!

 

Draped over the skinsuit was a black silk kimono, embroidered in red, with fringe, dancing, delightful, deadly fringe.

 

To top it all, literally, Spock had his face painted in Kabuki makeup.

 

Yeah, Kirk was positive he was dead.

 

“Are you ready to leave now, James?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Back to the “their club.”  The place featured old-time rock and roll, Kirk’s favorite.  Tonight it was a tribute to both Chuck Berry and Buddy Holly.  Kirk would have been delighted, if he had only regained his absent brain cells.

 

Oh, they danced!  “Rock and Roll Music.”  “That’ll Be The Day.”  “Johnny B. Goode.”  “Peggy Sue.”  And the place went absolutely crazy with “My Ding-a-Ling.”

 

Finally, the band wound down with “Words of Love.”

 

_Hold me close and tell me how you feel_  
Tell me love is real  
Mm, mm, mm, mm  
  
Words of love you whisper soft and true  
Darling I love you  
Mm, mm, mm, mm  
  
Let me hear you say  
The words I want to hear  
Darling when you're near  
Mm, mm, mm, mm  
  
Words of love you whisper soft and true  
Darling I love you  
Mm, mm, mm, mm  
Mm, mm, mm  
Mm, mm, mm

 

Except one idiot patron decided during that song he needed to dance with Kirk.  Forget the fact that Spock was wrapped around him and they were quite engaged in some serious face sucking.  The patron was a newcomer, though, and very drunk.  Plus very stupid.

 

He stumbled up to the couple and slapped Kirk’s butt.  “Hey, Sweet Cheeks, save some of that sugar for me.”

 

Kirk and Spock pulled apart, and Spock glared.

 

The temperature of the room dropped at least 20 degrees Celsius.

 

Everything stopped.  Silence reigned.

 

A low rumbling began.  It erupted as a full growl from Spock’s throat.  “MINE!” he roared, and picked up Kirk and slung him over his shoulder, as if Kirk weighed as much as a goose-feather pillow.  Spock did a half turn, and Kirk’s turquoise heel clipped the guy in the forehead.   Spock ignored the falling body as he stomped off the dance floor and out the door.

 

The entire room broke into resounding applause.

 

Every single person in the bar signed a deposition that the injured party stumbled in his drunken stupor and hit his head on a table.

 

(“Words of Love,” written and performed by Buddy Holly)

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear, dear Readers...
> 
> I typically offer chocolate.
> 
> However, today I think smelling salts would be better...
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading!


	8. Fascinating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, back to the actual DETECTING! (sort of...)

They barely made it in the front door of their apartment.  Immediately thereafter, they had against-the-door-sex.

 

Followed by floor sex.

 

Then kitchen counter sex, dining room table sex, dresser sex, amazingly-inventive bathroom sex, and finished up with set the mattress on fire bed sex.

 

When Kirk pried open on eyelid, he noticed daylight.  He spat out a mouthful of pillowcase and moaned.

 

That set a chain reaction loose, and soon every single voluntary muscle cell in his body ached.  He hurt in places he had no idea could ever hurt: the webbing between his ring finger and little finger, that small bridge of flesh between the nostrils, even behind his ears.  There wasn’t even enough strength to open his other eye.

 

He moaned again.

 

Spock appeared, smiling.  That bastard!  “Good morning, Jim.”

 

Another moan, this time with some heat in it.

 

“I brought you coffee.”

 

The moan changed to a whimper.

 

Spock helped Kirk to sit up, and gave him two analgesic tablets with the hot coffee.  Everything was gratefully ingested.  Once the cup was emptied, Spock gently rolled Kirk to his side, and applied the dermal regenerator to his back and butt.  “Rug burns,” he explained.

 

Kirk moaned again.

 

Ever so affectionately, Spock picked up Kirk and carried him to the huge master bathroom, where they had a gigantic whirlpool tub.  He lowered the two of them into the frothing water, which was just under the boiling point.

 

Kirk tried to scream, but only emitted a soft wail.  Spock cradled his bondmate in his arms until he melted into the bubbles.

 

Finally, sense returned to Kirk’s brain, and he could communicate.  “What in the Hell happened last night?”

 

“Ahhh…”Spock hesitated.  “We can call it an echo effect of the ancient Vulcan warrior bond.”

 

Kirk raised an eyebrow.

 

“Vulcans are very territorial.”

 

“Ahem.  I.  Am.  Not.  Property.”

 

Spock leaned over so his face blocked Kirk’s view of the rest of the Universe.  “Yes, James, you are.  You are MINE.”  He covered Kirk’s mouth with his, and kissed him so thoroughly, Kirk wondered if he’d ever breathe again.

 

“You are as much mine, James, as I am yours.  Until Time ceases to exist, and then beyond.”

 

Kirk decided he could live with that.

 

Hot, bubbly, whirlpool sex was pretty good, too.

 

# # #

 

Kirk had decided that bonded life with Spock consisted only of absolutes.  It was always every brain cell, every thought, every star in the universe, every atom created since the Big Bang.  Nothing was ever halfway with Spock.  Today, for example, Kirk swore every ligament in his body was relaxed.  There wasn’t a single erg of tension to be found, anywhere in his being.  He didn’t walk, he slithered.

 

Spock had succeeded into turning James T Kirk into a puddle of goo.

 

Using all the married names for  _Tetka_  Alekzondra, Spock had generated even more hits from the Department database.

 

Kirk could only shake his head.  “Okay, she’s not a black widow.  She isn’t even the damned firing squad Bones called her.  This lady is a one-woman bubonic plague!”

 

“I do not think she is as deadly as that disease, but there are simply too many events to simply dismiss her presence as a mere coincidence.  I foresee a great deal of grunt work.”

 

“I put in the call to Records.  I also demanded they de-rat the file boxes before delivering them.”

 

“The Cadet will have to work on a terminal in another office.  One or two rodents will manage to avoid detection.”

 

Kirk shivered.  Spock raised an eyebrow.  “What?  I hate rats, too!”

 

# # #

 

McCoy walked into the Detectives’ office.  “Nice place you’ve got here.  You used a different decorator than whoever did your apartment, though.”

 

Kirk waved an arm.  “Have a seat…on some cartons, Bones.”

 

“No thanks.  I’m not fond of rat bites on my ass.  Besides, I’m on my way home, just stopped by with a bit of news.”

 

Kirk rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.  “Gimme something substantial, Bones.  I’m about to overdose on vague right now.”

 

“So far, all the dead husbands look legit.  That makes me antsy, so I’ll be digging deeper.  That’s a joke.  I’ll be putting in warrants for exhumation on a few of them.  But that’s not my news.  No, I’ve got something that Spock wanted.”

 

“Indeed, Doctor?”

 

“Yeah, the dead guy on Zonni Bakerston’s back doorstep.  You wanted me to check for anything unusual.”

 

“I believe I asked you to look for subtle discrepancies.”

 

“Yep.  I believe I found something that fits that bill.”

 

“Spit it out, Bones,” Kirk demanded.

 

“Some of the blood cells and the skin cells around the edge of the wound on the decedent’s head showed indications of having been frozen.”  McCoy grinned.

 

“What are you talking about?  The ambient temperature of Alpha Centauri never drops to freezing.”

 

McCoy grinned bigger.

 

“Indeed, Doctor.”  Spock raised both eyebrows.  “Fascinating.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm...let's go with the Count Chocola! Whole milk, 2%, and nonfat, help yourself!


	9. Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOW we get to the details of this woman's life!

Armed with new information, Kirk and Spock headed back to visit Zonni Bakerston.  She was waiting for them.  “Gentlemen, please make yourselves comfortable.  The tea is hot, and I shall serve us.  Please!”  Her arm again described a graceful arc in the air, welcoming them to her front room.

 

“I have Russian tea cakes as well.  Enjoy.”  She wiggled her eyebrows.  “I promise, they are safe to eat!”

 

The old woman took a long draught of the hot tea, and eased back into her overstuffed chair.  She sighed, and closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the flavors, and then her piercing gaze landed on Spock.  “You have information to share with me.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

Zonni smiled over her tea glass as she drank again.  “Do not be shy, Detective Spock.  I am listening.”

 

“You purchased a sizeable piece of dry ice—solid carbon dioxide—the afternoon prior to Mister Young’s evening visit.”

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it a visit.  He had no invitation to be here, at all.”

 

“The dry ice, ma’am.”

 

“Yes, I did purchase it.”

 

Kirk set his tea glass on the low table.  “Ma’am, the medical examiner discovered cells on the edges of the fatal head wound incurred by Mister Young showed evidence of having been frozen.”

 

She merely smiled, and held her hands up as she shrugged.  ‘Unfortunate.”

 

“For you,” said Spock.

 

“Have a tea cake, Detective Spock.”

 

“Ms Bakerston, you are responsible for his death.”

 

The tea glass got slammed down on the table, and Zonni glared at both Kirk and Spock.  “I protected my family.  That is all I have ever done.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

The three of them sat there in silence, eating tea cakes and sipping tea.  Finally, Zonni dusted her hands of infinitesimal crumbs and sat straight in her chair.  “I will tell you all, you may engage your recording device, and you will make note that my entire explanation is completely voluntary and made before you issue any formal reading of my rights.  After I am finished, you may give me my rights and I will confess to the neutralization of Mister Young as my sole and separate act, absolving my niece, Delia Minders, of any involvement whatsoever.”

 

“If your niece were the actual perpetrator—“

 

“She was not!” Zonni interrupted Kirk.

 

“Ahem.  The evidence would have to show her non-involvement, Ms Bakerston.  So far, we’ve just got one or more occupants of this house dropping a dry ice cannonball on Young’s head.”

 

“Detective Kirk: when I give you my entire story, you will be able to clear many cold cases from your files.  I shall give you enough information to do that, I am not simply reciting bedtime stories to sleepy children.”

 

Kirk turned to Spock.  “I’m probably gonna get skunked big time on this one, but I believe her.  I say go for it.”

 

“As do I,” replied Spock.  He set his comm padd on the table, ready to record, and recited the names, the location, and the date and time.  Then he nodded to Zonni.

 

“Thank you, Gentlemen.”  She poured another glass of tea for herself, and settled back in her chair.

 

“My name is Alekzondra Chekov Bakerston, and I am 93 Standard years of age…”

 

# # #

 

Little Zonni was two when her parents noticed her right eye bulging.  A hurried trip to the doctor turned into a frightening transfer to a major medical center.  The young girl was immediately hustled into surgery where the eye was removed, along with a chunk of her brain tissue.  Afterwards, she underwent external beam radiotherapy treatments and chemotherapy.  Zonni had advanced retinoblastoma of a nonheritable type, which is how it escaped the routine chromosomal screening of infants.  Because of the extent of the original tumor, the usual prosthetic eye with internal camera was not possible for her: she had to be fitted with eyeglasses containing the bionic components.

 

Her parents explained to other children that Zonni’s eye was “sick” and the doctors had to fix it.

 

And thus was the origin of Zonni possessing the Evil Eye.

 

Children are cruel, to those who are different.  And adults often allow them to perpetuate that cruelty.  Zonni was forever excluded from any group of kids.  She was tiny, she was excruciatingly shy, she wore glasses, and yeah, she was cursed with the Evil Eye.  You could go up and even ask her, and she’d tap on her right eye with her fingernail, and not even blink.

 

Zonni was fortunately brilliant.  She escaped the teasing, the finger-pointing, and even the bullying by reading everything she could get her hands upon, and studying almost any subject.  By the time she graduated high school, she had amassed enough college credits to obtain her first baccalaureate degree six months later.

 

Her family returned to the age-old tradition of an arranged marriage, because they knew Zonni would never attract the attention of a boy her own age.  Ivan Ivanovich Glazov accepted Alekzondra Chekov as his bride, and yes, everyone appreciated the irony of the Evil Eye now bearing the surname of “Glazov” meaning, “eye.”

 

Glazov was a wealthy merchant and had been married before, with many grown children.  They were horrified at their father’s new arrangement, and tried to have the marriage annulled.  The old man laughed in their faces, and made a show of disinheriting them.  He possessed a sizable fortune, so the gesture was not empty.

 

To everyone’s great surprise, Zonni and Ivan fell madly in love.  They had no children of their own, yet Zonni lavished attention on her numerous nieces and nephews, and was always available with her credit account if any family member fell into distress.  She continued her education, earning several doctorates, and the two of them traveled the galaxy together, enjoying each other’s company.  When Ivan fell into his final illness, Zonni stayed at his side, performing all the personal care ministrations herself and held his hand when he passed into the next life.

 

Over the years, Zonni married again, and again, and yet again.  The bridegrooms were close friends of Ivan and Zonni, and typically of advanced age, often of poor health.  She loved them, she tended them, and she gave them the attention and affection that their extended families denied them in the sunset of their lives.

 

None had been hurried along their passings, but all had been accompanied with love.

 

Yes, she inherited great wealth.  But she had always insured that her husbands’ descendants and also loyal employees received their shares.

 

# # #

 

“May I offer you gentlemen more tea?”

 

“Thank you, no.  The Medical Examiner, Dr McCoy, said that your husbands’ deaths all appeared to be natural.  He wants to order exhumation of a few.”

 

“That is no problem.  He needn’t bother with court orders, Detective Kirk.  I will sign any authorization necessary.”

 

“I will have McCoy contact you.”

 

“He may come here.  How does the doctor prefer his tea?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to try that chocolate cereal, Krave! I've heard, though, that it's terrible.
> 
> So let's just eat cocoa powder, straight from the can! We can wash it down with Choco-tinis!


	10. Scary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We find out more about Zonni Bakerston!

"Ms Bakerston, how many cold cases do you plan to clear with this rendition?”

 

Zonni smiled coquettishly.  “How many do you have associated with me, Detective Spock?”

 

“Eliminating any deaths found to be natural by the medical examiner, or any completely explained by other means, we have you associated with dozens.”

 

“My, my, my.  I may become legendary.”  She sipped her tea.  “For most of those events, Detectives, I merely manipulated circumstances which permitted the deceased to create his or her own demise.  We are talking about stupid, selfish people, who took delight in hurting others.”

 

“Ms Bakerston, we have a system of justice here on Alpha Centauri.  Individuals are not permitted to become judge, jury, and especially not executioner.”

 

“Society essentially condones bullying, Detective Spock.  It is rarely prosecuted, and even more rarely convicted or punished.  And the damage done by bullying lasts forever.”

 

Spock could not reply to that.

 

“I cannot tolerate the weak and helpless being tormented.  There is a type of person who can identify vulnerabilities, and target them.  They feed off the lesser members of society.”  The eyeglasses she wore magnified her scowl.  “I stop them.”

 

“Ms Bakerston…”

 

“I stop them.  Darrell Young found my niece, Delia, to be shy and awkward and not very confident.  He sweet talked her and held her hand, and kissed her and finally convinced her to let him move in to her place.  She paid all the bills, she supported him, she financed his many attempts at schooling and foolish business adventures, and he chiseled away at her self-esteem until she thought she was nothing.  He spent her savings and he beat on her continually.  She summoned help many, many times, Detectives.  Search your own Dispatch records for her calls.  She could not throw him out of ‘his own home,’ even though he never paid a single credit to the rent or utilities.  She would leave, he’d follow her.  She had restraining orders, Gentlemen, and he violated them time and again.  The courts did nothing.”  Her glare became even more fierce.  “Your justice system would do nothing.  So I stepped in.”

 

“Ms Bakerston…”

 

Zonni sighed, and waved her hand tiredly.  “I will get off my soapbox.  Let me give you an example of what I mean by allowing a stupid person to do himself harm.  Please?”

 

Kirk looked at Spock, Spock looked at Kirk.

 

“Continue,” said Spock.

 

“After Ivan died, my first husband, Ivan Glazov, I took over the administration of a non-profit organization we had created, to help developing planets market their resources.  It had just begun, shortly before he died, and it was struggling.  I entered the Marketing Department, and was shocked to see someone I knew, someone from my childhood, working there.  I had not been involved in the hiring, I had no idea of the actual people employed there, so it was a complete surprise for me to see this individual.

 

“There was no mistaking him: he was tall, slender, bright red hair, freckles, he looked identical to the young boy in my community.  Rodney Zelov.  The children called him ‘Red,” for obvious reasons.

 

“I walked right up to him, stuck out my hand, and said, ‘Red Zelov.  It has been many years.’

 

“He was taken aback, at first, but he remembered me.  Oh, he absolutely remembered me.  I saw the instant when recognition awakened in his brain.  Then he pasted a huge phony smile across his face, and became the congenial, friendly person he had always been—to other people. ‘Alekzondra!  How good to see you!  What are you doing here on Alpha Centauri?’

 

“I told him, ‘My husband and I started this nonprofit organization.  He recently passed away.’

 

“’Oh,’ he said, ‘Ivan Glazov was your husband?  I remember hearing you had gotten married. So sorry to hear of his passing.’

 

“We made small talk.  And all the while he is speaking with me, he was flirting with the pretty girls in the office.  He is the type to put notches in his bedpost, that one.  Always searching for a new conquest.

 

“He was the manager of Marketing.  I made sure I went in every day, just to keep an eye on him.  I learned from Personnel there had already been two, maybe three young women who had gotten involved with him, and then left because they were expecting more than he could give.  And I watched him target an intern from the local high school.  Really, she was just a baby, and he poured on the attention.

 

“A bully, Gentlemen.  A predator.  I decided to play his game.  I focused on him.  No longer was I the shy little girl, the outcast, the one to be ignored or feared.  And I was extremely attractive now.  Credits in the bank mean more than any physical beauty, you see.  I played him.  A touch on the hand, a rub of the back, slow looks, gentle smiles.  ‘You have grown into quite a woman, Alekzondra.’  Oh, I acted like his very words were nourishment to me.  I was alone now, no man to guide me, a rudderless ship.

 

“He dropped the young child like she was radioactive.  And he bought my sales pitch.  I strung him along, and then finally agreed to meet him for drinks.  We met at a bar after work, and sat in a dark corner.  We Russians are quite the drinkers, and he was a little surprised when I matched him, drink for drink.  And then I challenged his manhood by saying I could drink more than he could.  He didn’t know I was pouring mine out, I deliberately took a large pocketbook with me that day.

 

“He kept hinting to go to his apartment.  After about eight drinks within an hour and a half, I finally agreed.  I had to practically carry him to the door.  A typical bachelor, he had a flashy bar set up, and I looked for the most expensive liquor.  I wanted a glass of that, and I insisted he join me.

 

“By then, he was getting quite ill.  Once more, I put his manhood on the line, said that a ‘real man’ would hold his liquor, puking was for sissies.  He kept his gorge down.

 

“He was too drunk to count drinks.  I made sure his glass was always full, and I kept goading him to drink.

 

“He soon was unconscious, and his breathing eventually became irregular.  I let myself out and found a cab to take me home.  The next day, when he didn’t show up to work, I had the supervisor call Emergency Dispatch for a Health and Welfare check on him.

 

“He was dead, of course.

 

“Did I kill him?  No.  But I definitely exploited his own stupidity.  Would I do it again?  Absolutely.”

 

There was silence, broken when a clock chimed the hour.  Spock tapped his datapadd, and raised an eyebrow.  “I found the incident report.  You are mentioned.  Rodney Zelov, alcohol poisoning, and you stated you had seen him the night before.”

 

“As I just explained.”

 

Zonni stood, and set her tea glass on the table.  “Gentlemen, the hour grows late, and I am fatigued.  May we continue this discussion tomorrow?”

 

Kirk and Spock both rose, and Kirk nodded.  “Yes ma’am, but you are warned not to leave Alpha Centauri.”

 

“I am taking a hot bath, and going to bed.  Nowhere else.  Be here at 9 AM, and I shall have lunch prepared and served to us at noon.  We can continue until I become weary.  I am an old lady, after all.”

 

“We will be here at 9 AM, Ms Bakerston,” Spock said.

 

After they walked out the front door, Kirk turned to Spock.  “I don’t buy that old lady business for one second.”

 

“She does have the advanced years, but her mental acuity is sharper than most people’s.”

 

“Scary.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, for the reward/treat: Let's all go CUCKOO for Cocoa Puffs!


	11. More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zonni explains more to Detectives Kirk and Spock.

Spock and Kirk showed up on the Bakerston doorstep at 9 AM, sharp.  Both wore dark suits, and looked like pallbearers.  They felt like vultures.  Well, Kirk did.  Spock was just…Spock.

 

Once again, the spritely little old lady let them in, set them up with hot tea, and they took their usual places in the living room.

 

Zonni had obviously rested well the night before.  She was eager to begin, and motioned for Spock to put his recording padd on the table.  Once the identifications were complete, she started right in, “Gentlemen, I confess to you—that’s a good one, I’m confessing!”  She laughed and waved her hand in the air.  “You have many, many cases associated with me.  If I tell a story with each one, we shall be here for weeks.  Obviously, you do not have that much time to invest in an old woman.  So, I tell you one more story…and then we can just go through your list.  Good?”

 

Kirk raised a finger.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Ms Bakerston, please, first—what was the deal with the fish?”

 

“Fish?”  She paused a moment, and then smiled so big, her eyes were crinkled almost completely closed.  “Yes, the fishes!”  This woman who had presented such a serious demeanor broke into a musical laugh.  “Oh, the fishes!  Gentlemen, Gentlemen!  That summer, nobody could catch any fish!  The children would fish from the waters, and we would all enjoy lovely salmon in Kamchatka.  But that summer, pffft, no fish!  Everyone was so disappointed!”  She chuckled to herself.  “The Evil Eye went down to the dock, raised her hands over the water, and hummed!  And then there were fishes, so many fishes!”

 

She sat back in her chair and smiled.  “Did I tell you I have several doctorates?  I do.  I’m a trained scientist, Gentlemen.  Everything in nature is cyclical.  That year, it was a weather condition in the Pacific Ocean known as ‘El Niño.’  I knew there was no fish, so I checked the Terran Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration website, and the currents in the Arctic Circle were changing.  About the time the water temperature shifted near Kamchatka, I went down to the dock and made a big show for the children.  I did nothing, except look at the website.  And I hummed a little.”  Her eyebrows raised, and she chuckled again.  “Satisfied, Detective Kirk?”

 

He blushed, and nodded.

 

“But don’t tell the boys, okay?  Let them continue to believe in the great power of the Evil Eye!”

 

Zonni’s smile faded.  “One last story of my alleged crimes.  I was married to my second husband, and we participated in many charities.  It was the end of December, a holiday party for children in the foster care system.  One of the sponsors was a powerful man, one with a great deal of money and influence.  He always made a show of being generous, especially during the holidays, and he was present at this party.

 

“He was a disgusting man, with a taste for tender, young flesh.  There was always a shadow around him, but his money and his power provided him protection from your system of justice.  There had long been accusations, but they vanished, bearing no fruit.

 

“I saw with my own eyes, he was fondling some of the children at the party.  I swallowed my revulsion, and I followed him, letting him know I was nearby.  Eventually, he turned to talk to me, and I engaged him in quite the conversation.”  She slammed down her tea glass so hard, the liquid at the bottom of the container sloshed over her hand.  “We chatted for some time, and I told him I was a great believer in natural health cures.  You see, the gossip being passed around was that he had an incurable social disease.  I hoped to be perceived as compassionate and understanding with knowledge of alternative medicine.  He bought my act.”

 

Zonni looked away, and slowly blinked a few times, as if experiencing the conversation again.  “I told him he was so fortunate, this being the holiday season.   Holistic practitioners knew of a true cure for his ailment, and it was available right then!  Yes!  All he had to do was go on a three day fast, to prepare his body for purification.  Then he needed to buy several poinsettia plants.  Use the leaves to make a tea, and drink several cups, three times a day.  He might suffer nausea, vomiting, cramps, diarrhea, but that was perfectly normal: his body would be purging the sickness.  One week of the tea, and he would be cured!”

 

She turned back to Kirk and Spock, and looked directly at them.  “He was a fool.  He did what I said.  He was found in his home after the New Year, dead.

 

“No more children suffered abuse by his filthy hands.”

 

“Ms Bakerston…”

 

“I grow fatigued, Gentlemen.  Bring me your list tomorrow morning, I will tell you of each case.  Please find your own way out.”  She rose from her chair and walked silently out of the room.

 

Kirk and Spock left, without saying another word.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get your cereal bowls ready! Chocolate Lucky Charms for all readers! (You can have my share, I can't stand Lucky Charms!)


	12. Closure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have reached the end!

9 AM the next morning, Kirk and Spock were once again standing on the Bakerston doorstep.  The uniformed maid answered the door.

 

“Detectives.  Madam was taken to University Hospital late last night.  She directed me to give you this.”  The woman handed over a data chip.

 

“Why has she been hospitalized?” Spock wanted to know.

 

“Madam is dying.  The cancer from her childhood returned late last year.  Weeks ago, she declined any further treatments.  She is in a coma now, and left explicit instructions that not even palliative care is to be given.  The doctor does not expect her to survive the day.”

 

The door closed firmly in front of two very bewildered detectives.  They turned in unison, and walked back to the aircar. 

 

“I had no idea.”  Kirk just shook his head.

 

“She obviously desired to ‘set the record straight,’ as the saying goes, before she died.”

 

“I liked her, Spock.”

 

“As did I.”

 

Back at their office, Spock placed the data chip in his computer.  They both watched the display.  Zonni identified herself by all of her names, and gave the date and time.  “This is a voluntary admission of my participation of all the events I will detail in this document.

 

“I begin with the demise of Darrell Young.  My niece, Delia Minders, went to the back door to try once again talking to the man.  I went upstairs to the bedroom which had a window directly overlooking the back door.  I opened the window, and dropped a ten kilo block of dry ice, which I had purchased just that afternoon, onto Mister Young’s head.  I went back down the stairs, calmed my niece, and gave her a sleeping pill which had been prescribed to me, and escorted her to bed.  Then I poured a samovar of hot water onto the block of dry ice to dissolve it.  I waited until 1:30 the next morning to notify Emergency Dispatch of the body on my back step.

 

“Delia had nothing to do with it.  She was quite hysterical when it happened, and I ordered her to shut up, and say nothing.  Since I am the  _Tetka_  Alekzondra of the Evil Eye, she would never disobey.

 

“I bought the dry ice.  I dropped it out the window.  I cleaned up the evidence.”

 

Spock paused the recording.  “We still need to re-interview Ms Minders.”

 

“Of course.  But you know she won’t say anything differently.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Spock continued the recording, and Zonni Bakerston listed dates and locations and people she had “assisted” towards their demise.

 

It was staggering.

 

Kirk put his head down on his desk.  “It’s hard to reconcile the lady we met to this cold-hearted killer, Spock.”

 

“She was very methodical, and convinced of her reasons.”

 

“And clearly, there are cases where the criminal justice system simply failed.”  Kirk raised his head again and sighed heavily.  “I really did like her.”

 

They received word later that afternoon that Alekzondra Chekov Bakerston died at University Hospital without ever regaining consciousness.

 

Weeks passed, and Pavel Chekov was scheduled to return to the Starfleet Academy at San Francisco on Earth.  He came to take his leave of the two detectives, and brought a large package to their office.  “Keptin!  Professor!  I have something to giwe you!”

 

“Come in, Pavel!  We were hoping to see you before you left!”

 

“Oh, I newer vould leawe vithout saying goodbye, Sairs!  I have appreciated the experience of vorking vith you both, so wery much!”

 

“What’s in the box?” Kirk asked, as he pointed to it with his chin.

 

“For you both!”  Chekov placed the box on Kirk’s desk.

 

“Pavel, you didn’t have to get us anything!”

 

“No, Sairs, dis is not from me.  Open it!”

 

Kirk untied the string, and pulled back the flaps.  His jaw dropped when he reached inside and grabbed the contents and set it on his desk, next to the box.  “No  _way_!”

 

Even Spock looked surprised.

 

It was the brightly enameled, brass samovar that Zonni Bakerston had had in her home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate Cheerios to all readers! Thanks so much for taking this journey with me!
> 
> I have one more AU Detectives story to share. Keep watching!


End file.
